Oh God, Get Me Out!
by Triangular Prism
Summary: Okay, so, an Englishman, a Japanese, a Prussian, a Russian, and an Italian all walk into an elevator…
1. The Setup

**Title:** Oh God, Get Me Out!

**Fandom: **Axis Powers: Hetalia

**Rating: T**

**Genre: **Comedy

**Pairing: **Nothing in mind... but then again, you never know what'll happen in an elevator 8D

**Summary: **Okay, so, an Englishman, a Japanese, a Prussian, a Russian, and an Italian all walk into an elevator…

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the awesomeness that is Hetalia.

**A/N: **No, this had nothing to do with that 'Devil' movie preview I swear! XD I came up with this concept during a Writer's Group of mine, during an exercise requiring us to write a story of a character getting from point A to point B. My points were the top floor to bottom floor, and I used Hetalia characters… it took off from there. 8D Enjoy!

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**Oh God, Get Me Out!**

_**By Triangular Prism**_

**Chapter One: The setup**

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With a ding, and the smooth grating of stainless steel doors, the nation known as England stepped into the newly arrived elevator, sighing heavily. After the day's chaotic world meeting, he was dead tired, and looking forward to the fluffy bed of his hotel room. Now if he could just get out of this bloody building, first…

"Konbanwa, England," the soft voice greeted as Japan slipped through the elevator doors, which caused them to obligingly slide back to accommodate a new occupant.

"Oh, Japan. Good evening." The nation returned for politeness' sake, and fidgeted towards the close button.

There, now they were sliding shut again… he relaxed, waiting for the descent.

"Wait a moment!" A hand suddenly caught the doors, forcing them to a halt, as Russia made his entrance into the small space. England's impatience sparked a little more, but he tried to ignore it, simply gritting his teeth as he nodded an acknowledgment to the tall nation. Everyone was just trying to leave, after all… Russia smiled in response, and moved to the side. Maybe this time the doors would close, already…

"Veee~! Hold the doors! Wait for me!"

He'd spoken too soon. Italy was dashing towards them, waving his arm in an effort to gain attention, and in response (before England could do otherwise) Russia helpfully hit the Open button, allowing the fourth passenger inside.

"Thanks! Ciao, everyone!" The others made their greeting, but this time, certainly not England.

"Let's just leave already," He muttered under his breath, and jabbed the Close command.

"HOLD IT! HOLD THE DOORS!"

Just as the doors began to shut yet again, England jerked up to see at the very end of the long hallway in front of them, none other than Prussia… who was currently in a dead sprint towards the rapidly closing elevator. This time, however, England was not so accommodating.

"Take the stairs! We aren't bloody waiting for you!" He yelled through the shrinking line, as the other occupants shifted, but did nothing. Russia seemed amused.

"WHAT? THAT IS SO UNAWESOME, YOU-" Prussia was yelling, accelerating his speed yet clearly not going to make it.

The doors were seconds away from closing, and it seemed that at the moment the elevator would leave with its four passengers, when all of a sudden, a hand jammed itself through the scant space in such a way that everyone jumped, mildly shocked. The damn doors slid open for the last time, and revealed the scene:

Prussia had apparently thrown himself the last few feet to the elevator and stuck his hand out in desperation. He was now lying flat on the floor, in a position that looked painfully stretched out, and grinning like a madman.

"Bastard. You can't keep out the awesome Prussia!" he crowed, and just like that, tucked his hand behind his head and turned his landing into a sexy pose, much to England's horror.

"Just get in the elevator, you git, before I have to shut these doors by force!" he seethed, as laughing all the way at his victory, the albino nation was on his feet and striding inside.

The doors shut all the way at last, and they were on their way.

"So, anyway…Sup Italy! Japan, and… oh. Russia." Prussia was saying loudly, oblivious to the fact that England was massaging his temples and trying not to speak. Only fifteen floors… fifteen of them before blessed freedom from this blasted building…

"…And then I was going to make pasta for Germany, 'cause he looked really stressed out after the meeting, and…"

"I'm sure he will enjoy it, Italy-San."

"EEYAAH! Stay away from me, you creeper!"

"I did not move."

"Would you all just shut UP?" England snapped, causing a temporary lull in the chatter that had risen in the small space, since it was getting to his head and all he wanted to do was _go home and sleep…_

All at once the floor shuddered, and with an earsplitting screech, ground to a abrupt halt. England found himself thrown off balance as the lights blinked out, resulting in a scant second of utter confusion.

"YAAAAH! WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!"

"What the-?"

"Waah!"

"Bloody hell—!"

The lights came back on. Italy was clutching wide-eyed to a disgruntled Japan, while Russia had steadied himself against a corner, gazing around with evident puzzlement. In the very center of the space Prussia stood rigid, steadying himself with outspread hands as for once, his cocky grin was momentarily missing.

"The hell just happened?" he grunted, and with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, England slowly looked at the dial above the stainless steel panels. The light, the wonderful light that told them of their current position between floors, was gone.

"Well." Russia spoke up cheerfully in the dead silence that followed, seemingly unaffected by the whole thing, and dropped the bomb on all of them.

"It seems we are stuck, da?"

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**So it begins. Thank you for reading, hope you stay~**

**-Triangular Prism-**


	2. The SOS

**Wow, there was an overwhelming response to Prussia in the reviews XD his sexy pose must have worked! Thanks to all who reviewed/favorited/alerted/are lurking~**

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**Chapter Two: The SOS**

After Russia's calm proclamation, everyone stood in shock for at least a minute. Italy broke the silence first as his face filled with panic.

"W-w-w-we're stuck?" he squeaked, still keeping his death grip on Japan, who seemed to have paled several shades lighter in the chain of events. "H-how are we going to get out?"

"Okay, let's just think this through rationally!" England interrupted, "It's not that bad. There must still be people in this building. And better yet, we have _phones._"

Hardly had he spoken the word 'phone' that Japan whipped out his state-of-the-art mobile and began dialing. England blinked at the rapid movement, then dug into his coat pocket for his own phone.

However, the remaining three remaining passengers did nothing.

"Veee, I remember, I left my phone with Germany for safe keeping!" Italy chirped, suddenly cheerful again.

"Hey! Where's my phone? Someone must've…" Prussia burst out, digging vainly around in clothes for the supposed phone, then stopped. "Oh wait, Hungary broke it last week. My bad." He grinned, and gave England a thumbs-up.

"I do not have a phone," was all Russia said, still smiling childishly.

After a face-palm of exasperation, England glanced down to his cell. It was off, so he held a button down to boot it up. And waited… When the phone refused to turn on moments later, the nation realized with horror that the battery was bone-dry.

"What… what the…." He spluttered, trying to think of how it could _possibly _be dead when it was fully charged _that morning…_

Wait a second…

_Hey Iggy, lemme borrow your phone for a sec!_

_Use your own, you git. _

_Awww, but the battery on mine died! Pleeeease, I just need it to text a few times!_

_Fine! Here, just take it and shut up, Germany's speaking._

"America, you…!" The idiot had used up his phone's battery by _texting? _He was going to _murder _him for that! That meant that the only one among them all who held a link to the outside was… Japan.

The Asian nation became acutely aware of four pairs of eyes turning to focus on him. Oddly he seemed rather uncomfortable, squirming as much as was available with Italy still hanging on to his arm. He waited, listening to the dial tone with baited breath…

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Meanwhile~

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"Aiyah! Enough, Aru!"

Without even bothering to look at the caller ID, China shut off the phone in mid-ring, and threw it across the hotel room to the bed. "I am sick of America and his incomprehensible text messages!"

He sniffed, and entered the bathroom to take a shower.

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Japan frowned, looking at his phone in bewilderment. Had China just… hung up on him?

"No such luck?" England pried, and the Asian nation shook his head. He'd have to try another number, and so he did, scrolling through his phone book to see which nation to try next…

Germany's phone was shut off.

So was Greece's.

America's battery was dead…

Korea and Taiwan didn't carry phones…

Hong-Kong didn't answer the phone, and Japan knew he _always _carried it around…

"Try my number! Germany has it!" Italy suggested.

The phone rang and rang, but eventually went to voice-mail. Japan left a message, just incase, but right now, the situation was looking rather hopeless.

"Perhaps Estonia's phone is on, da?" Russia offered, and Japan dialed in the proffered number…

_This is Estonia, I can't get to the phone right now, especially if I'm at Russia's house. Please leave a message after the beep, and I'll get back to you as soon as my fingers heal. _

Japan didn't bother leaving a message.

"Why is nobody bloody answering?" England pulled at his hair in anguish, as the list of potential rescuers began to steadily shrink, the final call being a last-ditch attempt to reach France. Nobody had a fully charged or on phone? _Nobody?_ Right now his famous eyebrows were furrowed deeply in his rising hysteria, for if no one ever received the call for help… he didn't even want to think about it right now.

"I wonder if our comrades silenced their phones for the meeting? Not that many of us carry them, da, but it is a possibility?" The theory came from Russia, who looked thoughtful. "If so, we will be waiting until they turn them on again."

England scowled. _If everyone turned off their phones, who the hell was America texting?_

"Wow. So, like, are we stuck here for a long time now?" Prussia said blandly, voicing his thoughts after watching the phone hijinks with a look of boredom, and England turned to glare at him.

"No. We aren't stuck. We'll get out. Preferably before the building locks up for the night and leaves us here _until morning _when the conference picks up again… _oh my god, we're stuck here until_ _morning, aren't we_?" With each word England's voice had risen in pitch, and uttering the final statement, he hung his head in his hands with a desperate moan as he came to terms with the fact that he probably wouldn't be making it to his soft, fluffy hotel bed.

Right then someone whimpered, one of plain, blatant fear, but it went ignored as slowly, a strange expression spread across Prussia's face.

"So…"

"Don't say it," England warned, catching on almost immediately.

"We're totally stuck…"

"Don't you dare say it!"

"In an elevator? This is so…"

"PRUSSIA!"

"AWESOOOOOOOME!"

"I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU!"

There was a moment of chaos as Prussia jumped around gleefully, with a vehement England attempting to strangle him. Of course this didn't last long as there was only so much space in the elevator, and the chase hastily stopped when Russia stepped forward with an ominous air about him after the albino nation brushed against his scarf. Not to mention Italy couldn't help but notice that Japan was starting to look a little off color…

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**A/N: Prussia, you rascal… Next time, how are our nations going to last the whole night in a tiny space…?**

**I hope these chapters are funny, I'm doing my best to write a decent comedy… thingy. :p**


	3. The Trapped

**Chapter Three: The Trapped**

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_~We now return to our favorite trapped Nations~_

England was slumped against the wall, gloom radiating from his person in a way that almost seemed to form a dark cloud over his head. Likewise, his fellow occupants were in varying forms of resignation to their fate. Prussia for one, while still grinning every now and then, had mellowed out, especially after realizing that yes, it was awesome being stuck in an elevator… and equally _not _awesome being stuck with _Russia. _Japan had secured a corner to himself, and now appeared to be in deep meditation. He sat crossed-legged and silent, eyes closed, as he inhaled and exhaled in a calm, even manner. The only one who seemed to be retaining any form of cheerfulness was Italy, who chattered animatedly to the Asian nation, oblivious to the fact that he was being blatantly ignored.

England couldn't tell what the hell Russia was thinking. All he was doing was standing there with that creepy smile…

"Ah." Russia suddenly perked up, and turned his attention to the elevator panel. There was the sound of buttons being pressed, then a sigh. "Nyet, no good."

"What?" England grumbled, only managing a half-hearted glare in the large nation's general direction.

"Hm, I thought that perhaps the panic button would work. Unfortunately, it did not. The power must be completely shut off." He glanced upwards. "At least the lights are on, da?"

The European nation could have smacked himself, yet settled for a face-palm. Of course, the alarm… Why hadn't he thought of that? Granted it didn't matter anyway if it wasn't working…

"Psh, look at them. Acting all grumpy and un-awesome, aren't they, Gilbird?" Prussia scoffed, leaning against the oak paneled wall and petting the yellow ball of down in his hand. Gilbird cheeped in response.

England felt his face abruptly slip from his hand.

"Where exactly did Gilbird come from?" he demanded weakly, while the bird began to flap around the chamber with Prussia's encouragement, scattering tiny feathers.

"Huh? He was in my pocket. Duh." The albino said matter-o-factly. Oh, of course, his pocket. The bird would not have obviously been squished from earlier if it had been there the whole time.

"What time is it?" Japan asked abruptly from his corner. His eyes were still closed.

"Uh…" England checked his watch. "Ten-thirty, about…" Damn. Still a whole night to go.

"Ah…" the Asian Nation sigh softly, and went back to musing in silence. His face seemed to have regained some color, though still remained a tad lighter than normal.

"It won't be that bad will it?" Italy decided to break in. "It'll be like one big siesta time! And we'll all get to sleep together! Yay!"

Three nations shuddered simultaneously, while Russia broke into a small string of kolkolkol's to Prussia's great horror.

"No…. just… God no! There's hardly any space!" England protested.

"I am _not _sleeping with Russia!" Prussia blurted at the same time, "Hell no! If it was just with you other guys though, that would be awesome~ heheheheh…."

"Why not with me, little Prussia? It would be fun like Italy says, da?" Russia said lightly, throwing a playful arm around the other nation's shoulders, and a scuffle broke out as Prussia yelped and tried to jump away. Instead he tripped over Italy and crashed against the wall due to the lack of space they had. Gilbird chirped in alarm, flying in frantic circles while Russia tried to help the bird's master up, and Italy wailed from the impact of Prussia's foot against his leg. Japan twitched, his calm surface disturbed by a strange expression on his face, and England had nothing else to do but slip back into his little cloud of doom and moan. Five nations in an elevator was just not something that would end well... It was going to be a long night indeed.

Surely someone… _anyone… _was bound to notice that they were all missing? _Anyone at all?_

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Romano growled, tapping his foot as he waited for the elevator. Stupid thing was taking forever. He wanted to go back to the hotel already. Stupid meeting… And where was Italy? He'd ran ahead, that's right, and so was probably down in the lobby, waiting. If only the elevator would come!

Come to think of it, it'd been nearly four minutes, hadn't it? Romano checked his watch, frowning. Elevators weren't supposed to be this long, were they…? Wait, was there even a light on the floor indicator? Romano's eyes narrowed…

"Lovi—!" A joyful voice rang through the hallway, and any suspicions Romano might have had were blown clear out of the water by the offending weight of pure Spaniard.

"SPAIN! You bastard, let me go!" he roared, as the said nation nuzzled him affectionately, arms circled firmly around the other's body.

"Ah, but I was looking all over for you my- OOF!"

Romano gave him an elbow straight to the gut, and he doubled over, clutching his stomach in pain.

"L-Lovi, that wasn't very nice…" he whimpered. Right then, there was a _ding_, as the _second _elevator behind them slid open to both.

"Finally! I'm leaving." The Italian nation growled, stomping aboard, and Spain had no choice but to hobble after him, pleading his name and trying to gain his attention. Romano ignored his former charge, jabbing the button for the first floor, and trying to keep the other man away from him.

As the doors slid shut, the elevator across the hall stood resolutely, innocent in all outward appearances.

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After a quarter of an hour crouching in the bushes, France could feel an uncomfortable stab of pain building in his legs, forcing him to stand up abruptly. Leaves and twigs scattered as he brushed them off his clothing, and cast a questioning look at the tall building he was hiding by. Reason? Well, he had hidden himself in the hopes of ambushing his dear _Angleterre_, as near the end of the meeting he seriously looked in need of some French TLC…

Only problem was, the nation hadn't come out of the building yet. Was he still working? No, he'd left the conference room, he was sure of that, and he'd taken the stairs all the way down just to reach the ground floor in time…

"_Angleterre, _where in the world have you gone?" France moaned in despair, pressing a hand to his forehead in an exaggerated manner. Ah well. He'd simply have to wait at the hotel, preferably in England's bed, with no clothes on. The Frenchman perked up visibly in anticipation before skipping off to make good of his new plan.

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On a random bench in a non-descript area near the conference building, Lithuania sat in a state of near panic, wondering why Russia hadn't shown up yet, and too frightened to leave in the event that Russia became angry he hadn't waited for him.

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**(A/N)**

**So many reviews! I'm glad everyone likes this story! You guys are all (almost) as awesome as Prussia ^_^ **

**I don't know all the specific names for elevator parts D: hopefully you all know what I'm talking about when I say "panic button" and "Floor indicator" XD**


	4. The Heat

**Chapter Four: The Heat**

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Germany snapped abruptly awake in mid-snore, and his neck gave a complaining zing of pain from the awkward position it had been in. Blinking dazedly, the Nation realized that he had fallen asleep in an armchair, in his hotel room. It took a few moments to wonder _why _he had fallen asleep, and what had woken him up.

First realization: He had fallen asleep, waiting for Italy. Because Italy had mentioned coming over to make pasta, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Germany really just wanted to get some sleep after a hectic meeting.

Second realization: The source of his waking up, was the fact that his room was completely silent. _Silent._ As in, no Italy bouncing around, tugging at his arm, and shouting his love for pasta at the top of his lungs. (Not that he minded most of the time beyond general resignation, but this particular night he had just been really tired.)

Germany's eyes narrowed as he tried to think this through. It was quiet; Italy had not come as promised? He knew he had left the conference before the excitable nation, but surely Italy wouldn't have been far behind? This was… strange.

Italy wasn't at the hotel. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen Prussia either. If neither were here, then… Could this possibly mean…? With a jolt of realization, Germany jumped to his feet, everything become clear as a single thought came to mind.

He had to take advantage of this moment of calm, and get some _sleep _before either one came bursting in his room to rudely disturb him from a well-deserved night's rest.

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~_We now return to our favorite trapped nations~_

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"Ve… Is it just me, or is it getting hot in here?" Italy whined faintly, fanning himself with one hand. The nation was looking a little flushed. Even his curl was wilting like a neglected plant, drooping lower than it normally would.

England couldn't help but agree with this statement. His coat had been taken off and slung over his arm ages ago. It _was _beginning to get a little humid in the small, enclosed space, though it couldn't be helped, considering that there were five nations crammed inside. Although it was possible it only came from four nations, Russia had very little body heat from being a naturally cold nation.

All that aside, the air was still heating up. The European nation was slightly shocked when he felt a bead of sweat running down the side of his face, and without really thinking much of it, he reached up to loosen his tie and pull at the neck of his heat-restricting dress shirt.

Unfortunately, England seemed to have forgotten that he was stuck in the same place as Prussia.

"Woah. Woah! Oh yeah England, I like where you're going with this!" came the heavily exaggerated gasp, quickly followed by a jeering wolf-whistle. Quite understandably England jolted back, rapidly clutching the collar of his shirt back together, and blushed a furious scarlet color.

"W-what! How dare you!" he spluttered, tripping over his words as Prussia cracked up, banging on the walls in his glee.

"Oh god, the look on your face! Priceless!" he choked, and broke into another gale of laughter.

"Huh? But England had a good idea. What's so funny?" Italy, ever oblivious in the face of reality, tilted his head in a puzzled manner. He himself had begun to shed his coat in favor of cooler clothing.

"Oh, Ita-cakes, you'll understand when you're older," Prussia chuckled, wiping tears from his eyes, "Too bad you're already older and still as ignorant as a door nail."

This statement sent him into another fit of giggles, while Italy tried to understand what the words meant, and England fumed.

"Bloody idiot! Insinuating disgusting things like that!" He muttered, still flushing up a storm, stubbornly clinging to his shirt like his life depended on it. Should have remembered the albino nation was such a pervert…

"Well! Since it is indeed getting hot in here, I, the Awesome Prussia, will put on a special treat just for you!" the said nation suddenly yelled, pumping a fist in the air and sending Gilbird flying. Everyone turned to look at him, blinking. Prussia cleared his through, dropping his head to allow silvery bangs to fall in front of his eyes.

"Okay, so how did that one song go… that America showed me… Oh yeah!"

Then, to England's great, great horror, Prussia began to slowly slip out of his blue jacket and unbutton his shirt in a very, very provocative manner, and sing in a high falsetto, "_It's gettin' hawt in here, so take off all your clothes~_"

"GOOD LORD, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" England screeched at the top of his lungs, and as it turned out he was not alone in the respect, when Japan was suddenly dusted a light pink and stuttering about how indecent Prussia's display was.

"Oh c'mon man, you liiiike it!"

"I-I do not! Put your bloody shirt back on!"

Russia was chuckling off to the side. Both England and Japan were pleading with Prussia to stop the display, while he only laughed, continuing on with the song and generally acting like a stripper. And Italy, he was still sitting with a confused expression against the wall. Until…

"Oh!" the nation was suddenly on his feet, drawing everyone's attention. The Italian's curl seemed to have perked up, and his expression was now bright, and filled with sudden clarity. That couldn't be good. England knew for sure, when right in front of them all, Italy quite cheerfully started to undress himself.

"It'll be like siesta time, only it's night, and we'll all get to cuddle together!" He cheered happily, loosening his tie and throwing at carelessly away. It made impact on Japan's head, who began to look even more panicked.

There, in the tiny enclosed space of the elevator, England felt his brain die a little.

"YEAH! That's what I'm talking about Italy!"

"Italy-san! Prussia-san! P-please stop! I feel very uncomfortable with this situation!"

"Italy what- No! This isn't a sleepover!"

"Kolkolkolkol—"

"WHOO! TAKE IT ALL OFF!"

"PRUSSIA! STOP ENCOURAGING HIM! ITALY, FOR GOD'S SAKE PUT YOUR PANTS BACK ON!"

In the chaos that was Italy and Prussia stripping, Russia laughing rather hard, Japan covering his face with his hands (yet peeking through his fingers, unable to help himself) and Gilbird squawking at the top of his tiny lungs, England could not understand what exactly he had done to deserve all of this.

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Germany did wake up for a second, with a strange feeling that somewhere, something bad was happening, but he promptly ignored the feeling to drop right back off to sleep.

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**(A/N):**

**Story's going well, I should say! Germany had it, but then he lost it again. Until next time, Ciao~**


	5. The First Attempt

**Hallo. I made a random little poll on my profile, so if you'd like, mosey on over there and try it. You won't regret it. –wink-**

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**Chapter Five: The First Attempt**

~.~

The idea came from an off-handed comment from Italy, who, after much pressure from England and Japan, had quite sadly put his clothes back on, disappointed that there wasn't actually going to be a large sleepover on the floor of the cramped elevator. After the hubbub had died down, the temperature of the air only seemed to have increased, and now all the nations were silent in a humidity-stricken slump. Until Italy mentioned how removing the air vent cover from the ceiling might allow some cool air into the heated space.

He found himself at the receiving end of several startled looks. Prussia even asked if Italy, of all people, had actually come up with a good idea. Things were elevated -and please pardon the bad pun- from there.

"Aaagh! Russia, Russia you jerk! Over to the left! Or you'll drop me, and that would totally not be awesome!" Prussia was beating at a metal grill in the ceiling, perched precariously, of all people, on Russia's broad shoulders.

"I am doing my best, comrade," Russia hissed through gritted teeth, "but perhaps it would be best if you _stopped flailing, _da?"

"Just… be careful you two!" England pleaded from the side, watching the scene with a growing apprehension, since honestly, when had anything gone right this evening?

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Backtracking to a couple of minutes ago…

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"Can't we open the vent in the ceiling? Maybe it'll cool down that way."

A silence fell instantly. Italy blinked, and fidgeted nervously as everyone stared at him with a wide range of surprise and disbelief. Then, out of all of them, Prussia solemnly rose, wandered over to where Italy slumped against the wall, and patted him on the head.

"Italy? Very possibly, for the first time in, like, ever… did you just have a good idea?"

"Ve?" the Italian frowned, confused.

"Oh my god! Why didn't I think of that? We can escape through the lift shaft!" England suddenly screeched, bolting up and tugging at his hair in anguish.

"Oh my god! What an awesome idea! Why didn't I think of a super cool escape like that?" Prussia gasped at nearly the same time, snapping into excitement mode. The two nations glared momentarily at each other.

"I can't reach it," Russia remarked lightly, standing directly underneath the vent and looking at the wire-mesh covering. His smile widened.

"Okay! So, here's the plan!" This came from Prussia, snapping out of a staring contest with England and jabbing a finger at each of the elevator's occupants.

"I, being the most awesomest people in here, will be the one to crawl up there! So, one of you guys hafta lift me up."

"Well, I certainly refuse to even-!"

"Silence! You have been rejected to bear my awesome weight!" Prussia simply yelled over England's protesting voice, and the European nation abruptly shut his mouth.

Italy raised his hand.  
"Can I crawl in the vent? I've never crawled in an elevator before! Ve~"

"Nope, sorry Italy baby, the cool escape shall be left up to me. Besides, you'd probably fall off the sides or something. As for the rest of you…" the albino nation stared at the others critically. "…Wimp, weak, short. And you've already been rejected," he said flatly about Japan, Italy, and England in quick succession. England flinched, Italy looked puzzled (oblivious as always) and Japan looked like he didn't care either way, since he was leaning against the wall of the elevator with his eyes shut and a nasty pasty look about him.

That left… Russia, who tilted his head.

"And… what about me, comrade Prussia?" he asked, his mouth twitching, the smile gone. Prussia turned to glare, looking up at the tall nation with a critical eye.

"Unfortunately… as un-awesome as you may be, you look like you're the only one who can even lift me up for any amount of time, since you're huge, so… Russia! I will grant you the privilege of letting me step on you!"

He said this with so much confidence, despite the slight lip-curl of disgust at pronouncing the other's name, then when Russia's answer came…

"Nyet."

Prussia crashed heavily to the floor.

"W-what? Why not?" He demanded, stuttering out in shock and indignation.

"Why should I?" the large man shrugged, almost disinterested, "You do not like me. And I am not liking the way you speak about me, da? I am not huge!" He huffed in a childish manner, crossing his arms, but smiling broadly in a manner that clearly showed his delight in impeding the Prussian's plan.

"Dude! Seriously! You're huge! So you're super strong, and muscle-y! And the only person who can lift me up! So you'd be totally awesome! … and… and…"

The albino waved his arms frantically, and it seemed that he had forgotten whom he was talking to until his face went blank.

"Oh, now you say such nice things!" Russia giggled, clapping his hands together, and just like that the other nation spasmed in shock and realization.

"Crap! I didn't mean that! You bastard!" Prussia leapt back in horror, as England face palmed.

"Can we drop the whole matter and just work together on this?" he muttered, still slightly stung at the earlier rebukes, and for a moment Russia and Prussia simply glared at each other. There was a sudden chill in the air, and England shivered, suddenly aware of some sort of evil aura slipping through the space, before shrinking—if only a little.

"…Hm. Fine then."

"Awesome!" Prussia pumped a fist in the air. Russia looked more or less the same, but his smile seemed just a little more sinister. Plus there was that laugh…

"Kolkolkolkol…"

After some various other instances of attempts at raising Prussia high enough to get a grip on the vent (Italy and Japan were useless in the whole debacle, England tried to help but was suddenly struck with his this-wasn't-gonna-work-itis, and Russia refused to bend over for Prussia (this particular sentence holding many different meanings depending on how yaoi-oriented one's brain is)) but eventually, Prussia indeed manage to clamber onto the Russian's broad shoulders…

…Only to find that the metal grill would not budge. Hence we return to the situation that began in the start of this chapter.

"Aaagh! Russia, Russia you jerk! Over to the left! Or you'll drop me, and that would totally not be awesome!" Prussia beat desperately at the grill. At first, he was shocked at the steadfast way it held, and very quickly shock turned to rage.

"I am doing my best, comrade," Russia hissed through gritted teeth, "but perhaps it would be best if you _stopped flailing, _da?" In his haste to pull the grill forcibly for the ceiling, the albino nation squirmed without a thought to the one holding him up. There was a shadowy tint to the Russian's eyes, followed everyone now and then by that signature string of kols slipping out his mouth.

"Just… be careful you two!" England pleaded from the side, pulling at his hair. Of course it wouldn't come free… he had a feeling this would happen…

"Ve, Japan? Are you okay?" Off to the side, Italy stared quizzically at the Asian nation. Japan had not quite regained color, but simply gave the other a tiny nod.

"I am… quite fine. _Arigatou_," he said tightly. Italy blinked, but shrugged. Good enough for him.

"Enough!" Russia suddenly burst out with an uncharacteristic growl. Prussia was starting to grate at his nerves, and with no warning, the tall man simply let go. The other's own lack of balance sent him on a one-stop trip right to the ground with a startled _yelp _and a heavy _thud. _

"Russia!" England protested as Prussia howled in pain, clutching his head from the point of impact.

_Wham. _

_Wham._

_Wham. _

Further protests were silence as all stared slack-jawed in something close to terror.

"There we go! Much better, da?" Russia said happily, his wide, innocent smile firmly back in place as he lowered his trusty water pipe back to his side.

_Where… where did the pipe come from?_

The mutilated vent came free a few seconds later, directly onto Prussia's head as he woozily rose from his crumpled position on the floor. This prompted a face plant on the floor and a fresh yell of agony.

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**(A/N):**

**Update! Hooray!**

**Anyhow, I just have to bring this up ever since **_**Natcat5**_**put it in my head, but… **

**Fanart! Does anyone want to draw fanart of last chapter's stripping scene? You would make Natcat5 (and me… and many other people) very, very happy! /shot **


	6. The Elevator Job

**Chapter Six: The Elevator Job**

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After the tending of Prussia's head, which sported a lovely bump from the grate falling directly on top of him, and another long argument convincing Russia to sufficiently boost the albino Nation up again ("Look, Russia, when this is all over I'll buy you a bottle of your favorite vodka, alright?" "…Make it five.") Operation Climb-Into-The-Elevator-Shaft-And-Try-To-Call-For-Help was finally in action. With all the litheness of a snake, Prussia expertly slithered through the dark hole in the ceiling. He seemed to rather purposely stomp extra hard on Russia's broad shoulders, earning a glare, while England suspiciously wondered if he had done something like this before.

Soon the last of his foot was gone from sight, and three curious nations came forward to peer into the black square of the elevator shaft.

(Japan stayed where he was. He didn't seem up to moving.)

There was no word from Prussia.

"…Well? What's it like up there?" England called out finally; the silence began to stretch out rather too long for his tastes. There was a pause, then…

"Dude, I can't see _shit _up here."

A groan rose up from the confines of the elevator, just as Prussia stuck his head into the light. From where he was it seemed as if a disembodied head was looming out of the dark.

"Just chill, guys," he said quite cheerfully, "I can't fall off over the sides, it's all tight and stuff. But! I'm going to try and climb up the sides. There's some cables or something. Gilbird, to me!"

The tiny yellow bird flew to Prussia's outstretched hand with a _cheep_, and the head of white hair withdrew.

"Ve, good luck Prussia! I hope you find a way out!" Italy called, waving frantically, unintentionally crowding against Japan with his flailing arm. All failed to notice the faint twitch in Japan's face. In fact, the whole time the Asian Nation had pretty much been ignored, save for Italy's frantic clinging in the beginning of the whole mess. Everyone had not noticed the pasty complexion of his skin, the subtle undercurrent of twitching throughout his thin frame, the slightly strained breathing…

For now, Japan only squeezed his eyes shut, shrinking away from the excited Italian Nation.

"Well, nothing to do now but wait, I guess," came the tired sigh from England. He flopped against the wall and slid to the floor. "I don't know about you, but I'm knackered."

"Oh! Are you going to sleep?"

"That's right. So I'd appreciate it if I could have some peace and quiet now that the albino idiot is gone." With that said and done, England closed his eyes, firmly shutting out all distractions in favor of a well-deserved snooze.

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Humming the Mission Impossible theme song as he went, Prussia stealthily made his way up the rungs of a maintenance ladder, in the black of the elevator. Now that his eyes had adjusted, turned out there were small sources of illumination after all in the form of glowing lights every few feet of wall.

Now if only he could find some sort of way out…! The ex-nation had been climbing for what seemed minutes now, and he _still _hadn't found any sort of outlet to the conference center beyond. What the hell? If there were ladders, shouldn't there be doors or something as well? … Damn, maybe the elevator doors were the only way to get in or out here.

"Great. What now, Gilbird?" Prussia murmured angrily, pausing in his climbing. Gilbird cheeped from his shoulder. The albino raised his head to stare moodily up into the blackness. It still went on and on… He'd gone a few stories at least, and _nothing. _Lost in fuming, he at first didn't notice that Gilbird had suddenly begun flying in circles around his head, cheeping madly. It took a dive bomb to finally gain attention, and Prussia flinched as a piece of hair was forcibly tugged from his scalp.

"What the hell, man? What was that for?" he snapped, a hand flying to smooth back his hair from Gilbird's prying beak. The small bird went back to frantically circling his master's head and making a racket. Prussia, annoyed, tried to snatch the bird out of the air, only to miss and struggle to retain balance.

"Fine! Be that way, geez!" the albino growled, back to clutching at the ladder rungs. Unfortunately, his hands were slick with sweat, creating hazardous gripping.

Gott, it was muggy in the stupid elevator shaft… Prussia growled in frustration, switching hands to wipe the sweat on his suit. Why was it so hot in here? Screw it; he was going back down since there was nothing up here anyway and Gilbird was acting unawesome….

_Ahh. _A sudden cool breeze brushed his face. Prussia halted, as a sigh of relief slipped from his mouth. _That _was more like it! Blissful air flow, drying the perspiration on his face, and why was Gilbird _still _flapping around like his life depended on it…?

Prussia's eyes snapped open.

Airflow! In the elevator! Coming from _behind _him! Rapidly he twisted around, trying to see, and to his joy, there, sunken in the wall was a ventilation shaft. Unfortunately it was the small kind, too small for anyone to possibly crawl through, but with a certain yellow bird flying back and forth between vent and nation, a plan rapidly formed in his mind, further supplemented by Gilbird's urgent cheeping.

"Gilbird, are you saying… you want to crawl through?" Prussia asked urgently, and the bird pause, hovering over the vent with a single _piyo!_

"You do… Hang on then, lemme get the cover…!"

With some careful maneuvering, and a not-so-careful leap across the black void to the other side of the shaft, Prussia clung to a series of iron bars with gritted teeth, before ripping at the mesh covering. This one was more compliant than the original grate in the elevator, and it came free with a harsh screech of metal. It was dark inside the shaft; but the air came from somewhere, and unhesitatingly Gilbird hopped across the opening, pausing to look back at his master.

"Gilbird… This is an important mission! Our safety depends on _you_, and your shoulders alone!" Prussia said stiffly, "Can you make it through this mission and find help, soldier?"

_Piyo! _

"…Good… then go! Go forth soldier, and good luck!" Prussia now sniffed alarmingly, his voice wavering, risking freeing his arm to salute the little yellow bird who chirped at him one last time before disappearing in the depths of the vent. His master wiped at his eyes, touched by the bird's bravery, but then Gilbird had always been awesome…

"Godspeed, Gilbird, Godspeed…" he whispered as the sound of pattering feet died away.

Hesitating for just another moment, Prussia at last began the slow, painstaking descent downwards. Nothing left to do but wait, and hope that the little bird made contact with someone who could help them…

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England was rudely awakened by the loud wails of Italy. When the annoying sound wouldn't stop, he angrily opened bleary eyes to find Italy squeezing poor Japan in a death grip, with Russia looming over both of them.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded, "And what part of _quiet _do you imbeciles not understand?"

"England! England! Russia is being scaaary!" Italy broke in, and Russia shrugged under England's accusing glare.

"I was just talking! I don't know what startles him so!"

"_You _startle him, you git! Can't you just leave everyone _alone _for once?"

"I do not appreciate the tone in your voice, Англия. Perhaps you would like to rethink the sentence?"

Japan sat in the midst of all the noise, the blood pounding in his head as Italy's cries, and the argument between Russia and England together created a dissonant cord that struck at him deep inside. Quiet… why couldn't everyone be quiet? Hadn't _anyone_ noticed how agonizing it was to him in this tiny, _tiny_, cramped, shrinking space with no fresh air, and Italy wouldn't _let go of him_…

The said nation suddenly gripped the Asian even tighter than before, and deep down inside, something in Japan snapped.

"_URUSAI!" _

The roar exploded inside the small space with a force only associated with Germany. England and Russia halted in the middle of grabbing the other by the collar of their shirt, eyes widening in surprise.

Worst off was Italy, who fell back with a squeak and the point of a razor sharp katana at his throat.

"J-Japan? _What are you doing?_" he yelped, but received no response. Instead, with a shadow in his eyes no one had ever seen before, Japan held the blade high into the air, the finely-honed edge pointing downwards as he prepared for the killing blow.

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**(A/N): Update! And cliffhanger... 'Urusai' means 'loud' in Japanese, but if said angrily enough also means 'shut up.' I listened to Mein Gott on loop for inspiration, distracting as it was. Epic song. Otherwise, I estimate about four/five more chapters on this to go. **

**Review-wise, I love all of you guys! Almost one hundred reviews! To show my thanks, the ****105****th**** reviewer gets a Hetalia one shot of their choice! (Nothing M-rated though, I'm not interested in writing for that yet.)**

**Stay tuned! **

**~Triangular Prism**


	7. The Tone

**Chapter Seven: The Tone**

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~We now return to our favorite trapped nations~

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Time seemed to freeze as the katana in Japan's hand, seemingly pulled out of nothing, hung in mid-air, poised to fall with its perfectly honed edge angled downwards.

Italy was foaming at the mouth

England was too shocked to move.

Russia held on to his pipe, his grip tight around the metal.

There was absolutely no sound at all. Until…

"J-Japan, old chap, just what do you think you're doing?" England squeaked at last, his voice cracked and sounding on the edge of a nervous breakdown. The Asian man said nothing, only narrowing his eyes. Italy meanwhile took the opportunity to scramble backwards and out of harm's way, crashing fully into Russia's legs and not caring a wit.

"Veeee! Japan, what's happening?" he whimpered, "W-Was it something I did? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't do it again whatever it—"

"Italy-san…" Japan's voice cut through the pleas as smoothly as a stroke from his blade. Which, coincidentally, was pointed directly at the trembling nation again. "The _problem _here," he continued, "Is that your _voice… _No, I take it back, _you… _are _invading my personal space!_"

"Personal… what? Japan, let's just put the sword down and talk this through, like rational gentlemen! W-What say you?" This was from England again. The nation had edged warily forward, holding out his hand in a manner he hoped was as non-threatening as possible. Unfortunately Japan would have none of it, his eyes flickering up to him with such a smolder, that England froze in his tracks.

"_Iie. _I have had _enough,_" the nation hissed. "None of you have any idea what torture I go through, in this tiny space! There isn't any _room! _And no fresh _air! _I…I… I cannot _take it_!" With each word his voice rose in pitch, gaining a strained, hysterical note at the end. Then, in a move too quickly to follow, the katana flashed in his hand. Italy shrieked and covered his eyes. England jumped hastily back against the wall to minimize the chance of his being hit— but to the surprise of all, the blade's target was the elevator floor. With the sound of screeching wood and metal being rent apart, a great gash appeared directly between wielder and the other inhabitants, directly diagonal from the corners.

Japan stood on one half. Everyone else, crammed against the wall, with the sole exception of Russia. Up until that point the tall nation stood silently, eyeing the Asian man with an unreadable look in his violet eyes, and now, the pipe-wielder made his move.

"Care to explain yourself, Japan?" he said, his voice a sickly sweet tone that sent a chill down the back of England's neck.

It was The Tone.

The specific Tone that sent everyone stumbling backwards as fast as they could at a world meeting, and one that made even America hesitate for a fraction of a second… before egging the nation on anyway. And here Russia was using it, in a tiny rectangle of an elevator that did not allow retreating of _any kind at all. _

It seemed that with his composure, Japan had thrown away all semblance of self-preservation, in the form of him _stepping forward, _to the edge of the line, and toe to toe with _Russia…_ to glare up at him with smoldering eyes. Black versus Violet.

"It is simple. You," he indicated with a flick of shining blade, "Stay on the side of the line. All of you." A glare was directed to the other two nations, who flinched. "In turn, _I _stay on this side, by _myself. _You will not bother me. You will not _touch _me. Is that good of an explanation for you, Russia-_San_?"

With that final hiss, a chilling aura spread through the space as Russia's violet eyes darkened. Disturbingly enough his smile remained as he craned his neck downwards at the smaller Asian nation in front of him.

"_Ah_. I understand what you say, _comrade, _but I'm afraid that I do not _agree _with your… _proposal._"

The pipe in his hand rose, landing in the palm of the other with a solid _smack. _Japan stiffened, as did his grip on the katana's hilt. The tension was thickening, so solid England could almost swear he saw it… strangely enough, it almost seemed as if it were purple in color, and radiating excessively from Russia…

"This is not a large space, _da_? Why should you have most of it to yourself, simply because you happen to be throwing a _temper tantrum_?" said nation said, still in the syrupy sweet range of The Tone.

"Temper tantrum? You _dare _speak against me like that?" Japan was not happy. Never mind The Tone, the fiery sparks of his own temper were shooting from his body. He edge one foot forward, the tiny movement more threatening than one could possibly imagine.

Quicker than the blink of an eye, so quick England didn't even _need _to blink to miss it, Russia's pipe came hurtling downwards, with every intention of laying the Asian nation flat, if not for the fact that Japan's katana had flown up to block, resulting in the shrill screech of metal on metal, and an explosion of sparks.

"Oh _bloody hell!_" England could not jump back fast enough. His back thudded painfully against the metal-encased walls while next to him Italy similarly dove behind his legs, miserably disrupting his balance. A white flag had sprouted from the nation's hand as he babbled in Italian, waving it furiously.

Where the hell were all these long objects coming from, anyway?

"Oh, not bad, but is this really what you want to be doing?" Russia taunted, a feral grin stretched across his face as he pushed forward, hard. Japan resisted, gritting his teeth before spitting his reply back.

"You do not have any power over me!" he snapped, despite sliding back the barest fraction of an inch from the sheer display of strength. It was a very clear stalemate. Russia, with his brute force and height, against Japan, with his wiry form and rigid samurai history. Neither was willing to back down. Even though the enclosed space of the elevator was hardly the place for a duel at all.

At this moment Prussia chose to make his entrance. There was a thump from the ceiling, and next thing they knew there was a face staring down on them from the hole of the grate.

"Yo! You guys, I couldn't find a way out, but Gilbird—What the hell!" The face hastily redrew at the scene below. "_Mein Gott, _what's going on down there?" his slightly muffled voice demanded, suspiciously a few notes higher than normal.

"Oh, now you show up, you—" England mumbled, only to have Italy drown out his voice.

"P-Prussia! Prussia, Japan's lost it and Russia's fighting!" he yelped, still from behind England's legs with flag in hand.

"No shit, I can see that— What do you mean Japan's lost it?" Prussia sounded quite incredulous.

"Quite honestly— Italy! Stop moving around down there! Put the flag down! —I think Japan is just a little… claustrophobic, strictly speaking…" England was scrabbling against the wall, trying to save his sense of balance from the nation beneath him.

There was a pause. Then…

"What? Japan's… _claustrophobic? _Kesesesesese, that's hilarious!" Prussia proceeded to laugh, banging the top of the elevator until _both _Japan's and Russia's heads snapped up with an evil glint. Prussia hastily cut off mid-laugh when both a pipe and a razor sharp katana slammed directly beneath him—and in the katana's case, slicing through metal as easily as butter. There was a squeak.

"_Silence!_" both nations hissed.

"I got it I got it please pull the sword back down…" the whimper came from above. Japan obliged— by whipping it back and forward. This time it was Russia who blocked, resulting in another ring of metal and shower of sparks.

"Prussia, please tell me the reason you're back is because you found some sort of way to get us out of here!" England shrieked.  
"_Shit _they really have lost it— Uh, not exactly!"

"What the hell do you mean, 'not exactly?' _Did you or did you not_?"

"Look, I uh, found a vent, but it was too small, but never fear— because Gilbird valiantly volunteered himself to go find help!"

At the end of that proud note, England face palmed.

"Good lord, you sent… Gilbird…" he whimpered, "We're… we're stuck here all night, with _these _two madmen, aren't we…"

"Hey, put a little faith in his awesomeness!" Prussia sound a little insulted.

"Quite honestly, I think I'd rather put my faith in something I _know _will guarantee results!" England snapped back, shaking a fist in the general direction of the ceiling.

"Something like… _Something like…_"

_-England! England!_-

Right in that moment of the British nation's desperate cry, a tiny voice came floating through the air. England froze. His mouth dropped open, jaw completely slack as the form of one he'd recognize _anywhere… _came bursting through the wall.

"Flying… Mint Bunny_?_"

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Meanwhile…

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In the very back of the conference building, a small vent protruded from the brick walls into a small alleyway. And from this vent emerged the small yellow form of Gilbird, covered in cobwebs and dust, but utterly and completely victorious. He shook himself, scattering particles in the air, and cheeped in triumph. His master was counting on him, and nothing at all, not even the complex maze of a building's air system, could stop him!

With his mission goal firmly fixed in mind, the bird launched himself forward, soaring through the alleyway and into the night beyond.

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**(A/N):**

**Lol oh hai guys it's a new update. After New Year's and everything… Err, Merry late Christmas and Happy New Year! Argh, I feel like I've been spectacularly unimaginative with the chapter titles. **

**To **ReallyBigAnimeFan, **I have been working on your one shot, and will still definitely post it, orz. Sorry it's taking so long.**


	8. The Foolish

**Chapter Eight: The Foolish**

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In the darkness of night (or very, very early morning) Gilbird soared through the air, beating his tiny wings as he searched for _someone _who could possibly help his master. The streets, however, were silent, without a single human being in sight. All lights were out. While Gilbird vaguely knew the direction of the hotel all the Nations were using, who knew how long _that _could possibly take, just looking for it?

To the bird's delight, a few minutes of flying found him a person stretched out on a park bench, fast asleep. What luck! And so, Gilbird landed directly on the slumbering man's head, tugging furiously at long strands of brown hair, and digging his talons into shoulder.

In this way Lithuania found himself rudely awakened, still waiting for a very late Russia.

"What— Mister Russia sir! S-stop pulling my hair!" Half asleep, Lithuania bolted up, looking wildly around for the nation that wasn't there. When no Russia was to be found, he blinked dazedly, confused, until Gilbird chirped loudly and announced his presence.

"Oh!" The nation visibly relaxed. "Gilbird. What are you doing out here? Where's Prussia?" Lithuania tensed. "…He didn't prank me, did he?"

If Gilbird could have rolled his eyes like a human, he would have. Instead he settled for more tugging of Lithuania's hair, flapping his wings to convey his urgency.

"Ow! Stop that!" instead of following the bird like a good nation, Lithuania recoiled, swatting him away. "What are you doing?" Shocked, Gilbird zoomed around his head and returned to pulling.

"What, no! _Liaukis!_" The nation scooted away, ducking his head as Gilbird began to chirp, angrily. "I don't know what you want, but I can't leave! Mister Russia said to wait here…"

_Piyo piyo piyo_! Gilbird twittered in exasperation, which translated to something like, 'Foolish human! Russia-Human is where I am attempting to take you! Along with Prussia-Master and Nation-Humans!'

Of course, Lithuania unfortunately did not speak Gilbirdian. And so, fed up at last, the yellow bird made one last dive at the nation's head ("I said cut it out already!") and flew off in a huff, resigned to searching for the hotel. Leaving a bewildered nation behind, rubbing his aching head.

"I wonder what that was about?" the Baltic muttered, watching him disappear into the gloom.

He then noticed he had an awful crick in his neck from sleeping on cold, hard wood.

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_We Now Return to our Favorite Trapped Nations..._

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"Flying… Mint Bunny?"

As England gaped at the small, flying mammal that had magically appeared in front of him, he became oblivious to the sudden halt in activity around him, as Japan, Russia, and Italy stared at him in utter confusion.

-_England! You've been stuck here the whole time? We were waiting and waiting, and we were so worried!- _

Flying Mint Bunny, in his relief, went barreling into England's arms, who fell back clutching the bunny with all his might.

"It… really is you! Oh my goodness, this is the best thing that's happened to me all night!" the island nation near sobbed, snuggling the fairy with no thought to his fellow nations at all. Italy began to scoot backwards with wide eyes, more so when England started laughing as he circled his arms around thin air.

"E-England? Are you okay?" he asked faintly. England ignored him.

"Minty, I've been stuck here for _hours _with these… _ingrates! _You have no idea how stressed I am…" he was whimpering, stroking at air again.

"He's lost it… N-Now England's lost it…" Italy wailed helplessly, and wedged himself firmly in a corner, holding his white flag in front as if to ward others off. "P-P-Prussia, please come down! I need someone to save me!"

"Are you kidding? I'm not coming down there!" Prussia's muffled voice drifted incredulously from the ceiling.

"Um… England-San, you do realize there is no one in this elevator but… us?" Japan had momentarily reverted back to sanity, and was staring in a very flustered manner. Russia blinked, but said nothing.

-_It's okay England…_- Flying Mint Bunny said soothingly, -_I'll find help. I'll tell everyone where you are, and we'll get you out, I promise!_-

"Y-You'd do that? Honestly? Oh, Minty old chap, you're an absolute life-saver!" England glomped the rabbit harder, close to crying in relief. "Please, if you find anyone at all, make it that stupid American! He's the one that used up my battery— Do whatever it takes!"

-_Got it… Hang in there!- _And with that, the bunny disappeared, off to do his bidding. England gazed sadly at the now-empty space in front of him, sniffing alarmingly.

"Oh… God, Flying Mint Bunny… make it soon…" he said faintly, eyes going glassy…

And thus completely unprepared for the swift right hook to the jaw from Prussia himself.

"England! C'mon man, snap out of it!" the albino nation bellowed as the other fell back with an enraged scream, crashing into the wall with a neat thud. "There's nothing there! NOTHING THERE!"

"PRUSSIA!" On his feet in a matter of seconds, England wasted no time in seizing Prussia's collar, cradling his throbbing jaw. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WAS THAT FOR?"

"You were losing it! I had to bring you back to reality!"

"I WAS NOT LOSING IT! I WAS QUITE POSSIBLY ARRANGING OUR ONLY HOPE OF ESCAPE!"

"YOU WERE TALKING TO AIR!"

A cry in Japanese interrupted them as Japan and Russia quite suddenly snapped back to the duel they had abandoned. In unison England and Prussia threw themselves back against the wall in terror, as furious blows from pipe and katana respectively swung perilously close.

"Holy— I need to get back up!" Prussia gasped, scrabbling frantically at the smooth sides, and England let out a bark of hysterical laughter.

"How are you going to manage that, pray tell? Considering you _jumped down to punch me!_"

"…Aw, fu—"

"WAAH! D-Don't hurt me— I HAVE RELATIVES IN TOKYO AND MOSCOW!"

Italy threw himself into the pile, and together the three nations cowered in terror as Russia and Japan threw themselves at each other with reckless abandon, fire burning in their eyes.

Neither was counting on backing down, anytime soon.

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All was quiet among the rows of neatly numbered rooms, each housing a slumbering nation inside. Until, a mass of winged, hovering figures descended upon it.

-_Which room is the American in?-_ hissed Tinker Belle the fairy to Flying Mint Bunny, and the creature shook its ears.

-_I don't know. But he's around here somewhere— I can smell the grease!-_

There was general agreement to this statement.

-_Let's just fly through each room until we find him,_- growled a particularly fired-up fairy, who flexed his tiny arms threateningly. –_England wants us to wake him up… We'll wake him up!_-

The horde of fairies buzzed, and swept into the closest room… determined to rescue their dear nation friend at any cost.

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**(A/N): SILLY LITHUANIA.**

**I don't even know what to write for titles anymore XD I just type whatever comes to mind.**

**As you can probably tell, we're coming close to the end of the story here. How are these angry fairies going to fetch poor America...?**


	9. The Haunting

**Chapter Nine: The Haunting**

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All was quiet. Rooms lined the hallway, all filled with slumbering Nations deep in the land of dreams. In example; Hungary was curled tightly against her pillow, smiling pleasantly as she dreamt of ages past. In another room, Romano snored unashamedly, stretched out with his stomach showing as visions of tomatoes danced. Across from him, Latvia twitched in his sleep, overtaken with perpetual trembling.

However, at the very end of the hallway, a certain American was sleeping the deepest of all. _His_ dreams were only filled with superheroes, giant robots, and rescuing bushy-browed damsels in distress. Interrupted by the occasional flying hamburger, of course. It seemed fitting that the Nation's pajamas were patterned all over with his favorite food in bright, garish colors. Sleeping-cap skewed over messing blond hair, America sleeply mumbled nonsense words, drooling on his pillow in the process.

The Nation was completely unaware to the sudden drop in atmosphere and temperature as a literal army of invisible fairies poured into his small room. Unheard snickers floated about; tiny figures examined the various patriotic symbols scattered around the room, (the American flag pinned to the ceiling, comic books shoved in a corner, action figures, etc, etc...) but most of all, attention was focused on America himself. Invisible looks were exchanged; time for phase one.

Teetering on the edge of a messy hotel-style desk, a large stack of books inexplicably went crashing to the floor.

The Nation didn't even twitch. A strange angry buzz filled the air, like some strange invisible swarm of bees, but died away. The curtains were next to go in prompt turn. Ripped clear from the window, metal rings popped and burst with a horrible screeching sound.

America rolled over, smacking his lips and still oblivious.

An entire shelf of action figures promptly went flying from the force of an invisible hand. _That _was when the nation's eyes finally snapped open, as carnage rained down on his head in the form of disconnected arms and torsos.

Still half-asleep, he gaped at the litter of his precious action figures around him.

"Woah. Woah, not cool!" he finally squeaked out, narrowing his eyes in outrage. It turned to distress as he spotted a certain limited edition Captain America figurine- missing its head.

"Noooooo!" he wailed, snatching it up and whirling around in search of the missing part. "That was the lamest joke ever! Whoever the hell's in my room, you're paying me back!" America shook the figure into the darkness, expecting a fellow nation playing an evil trick. There was no reply.

The room was, in all appearances, still empty...

"Uh... dude?" America repeated, confused. "...Prussia, it's totally you, right...? Or maybe Denmark...?"

Silence.

Then the blankets and sheets around America's waist snapped back, ripped violently from the mattress itself and flying across the room. The nation shrieked, throwing himself violently back as the afore-mention blankets and sheets hit the wall and crumpled to the ground. But that wasn't all; a tower of suitcases in the corner burst open one by one, and various pieces of clothing blew over like a hurricane. Ripping a pair of Superman-patterned underwear from his face, America threw himself from the bed, scrambling on all fours.

Paper exploded from the desk like a mini-bomb, more books were shooting from shelves (one of which striking him full on the forehead, though it bounced off without much damage...) and a multitude of panicked thoughts running through his head.

"W-WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?" he finally yelped, cowering in a corner while chaos flew around him, and at the very first sound of his voice... _everything stopped. _

Silence. Trembling, America cautiously peeked through his arms in disbelief. Was that... it? His room was in disarray, papers and clothes scattered wantonly about. There was a deathly stillness in the air, one that wouldn't let America pass the whole thing off as a freak wind-machine accident, and slowly he rose to his feet, eyes darting back and forth...

Then, he froze.

There was movement on the far side of the room, where his curtains had been ripped off prior, but America didn't know that- all he currently knew and saw, was a large,

bulky figure rising slowly from the ground. The moonlight shining through the bare window revealed it to be a pale white, edges fluttering slightly, floating _higher and higher in the air..._

"G-g-g-g-g..."

America choked, eyes wide in terror as meaningless whimpers of fear died in his throat.

"G-G-GHOOOAAAAAAAAAAAST!"

Screaming, with all the power his lungs could afford, America tore from his place in the corner and directly out the door- and in his haste, plowed straight through it in a shower of splinters. As he went tearing down the hall, unheard snickers of hilarity floated in the air.

"EEEEENNNNNNNGLAAAAAAAAAAAAND!" Still screaming, doors slammed open as angry nations were rudely awakened. Curses followed the American all the way down the hall, but he didn't pay any mind. There was England's room number, up ahead, and since America obviously wasn't in possession of a card key, he simply knocked it off its hinges in a similar manner and, once inside, jumped with an impressive amount of leg power to cannon-ball directly on the large, queen-sized bed and the lump under the covers.

"_S-Sacré Bleu..!"_

"IGGGGYYY I WAS SO SCAAAARED ITWASJUSTFLOATINGTHEREITHuh?Heywait..."

There certainly was a nation coughing and spluttering beneath him, (having someone like America crash into your stomach would do that to you...) but the problem was...

"_France?"_ Staring incredulously beneath him, America fumbled back to the edge of the bed, as France struggled to regain the air in his lungs.

He also happened to be entirely naked.

Not one to pass up an opportunity, France flashed one of his flawless grins.

"Why, _Amerique, _I had no idea you wished to share _l'amour _with me so badly," he chuckled, still weezing, "But if you insist..."

He stretched out seductively, winking.

"Oh _hell _no!" America yelped, backpedaling so fast he fell of the bed yet again. "What are you doing in Iggy's bed? Where is he?" he demanded, popping back up, "Wait, if you're here... Holy Crap, you guys weren't...!" Eyes widened as false conclusions were reached. "Oh, _gross-_"

"AMERICA, YOU BASTARD, would you SHUT THE HELL UP some of us are TRYING TO SLEEP!" A new voice came screeching from the splintered doorframe.

"He _broke _the _doors?" _Another ventured, soundly mildly horrified.

A small crowd of nations was huddled in the hall, peering in with both sleepy and annoyed expressions on their face. Romano stood front and center, puffing angrily from his outburst. Switzerland elbowed his way in, cocking a rifle in his hands.

"I don't know about everyone else, but I do _not _want to be pulled into your sick foreplay!" the neutral nation snarled, "So pull this kinky stuff on your own time!"

"Woah! Woah, nonono that's not what I was doing!" America protested, holding his hands up in innocence. He conspicuously backed away from the bed and a pouting France. "I was looking for Iggy, I didn't think this guy would be here!"

"Like, why'd you want him so bad, anyway?" Poland huffed, unamused of being woken from his beauty sleep. America's eyes grew wide as his original purpose was remembered, and several nations backed up in alarm as the American threw himself forward, managing to latch onto an unfortunate Austria.

"Y-You gotta help me!" he wailed, "In my room-there was a-it was-_Oh My God, it-"_

"Release me this instant, you ninny!" Austria protested. However, America's grip was like iron, and his attempts to pry him from his silk pajamas went unsuccessful. "Just...Just spit it out, already!"

"_It...Was...A..._GHOST!" America finally burst, and a dead silence fell over the hall.

Then everyone burst out laughing.

"Forget this crap. I'm going back to bed," Romano grumbled, shoving his way out of the crowd as several others keeled over in humor.

"I'm not kidding!" America was protesting, to no avail.

"...America..." Germany suddenly loomed over, face red and looking ready to have an aneurysm. "Are you saying you woke _all _of us up... and destroyed hotel property... all because you thought you _saw a ghost?"_

"Uh, yeah?" America said blankly, setting everyone off into new hysterics.

The American was confused when the crowd that had gathered began to disperse, losing interest in the whole thing.

"H-Hey! Don't leave, I'm telling the truth! Guuuuys, look at my room, just look—"

"Silence!" Germany abruptly cuffed him, grabbing the back of his shirt and dragging him down the hall. "It it late. Some of us actually like to sleep, rather than concoct foolish pranks like you!"

"C'mon Germany! I'm telling you, there was a ghost! D-Don't make me go back there! Where the heck was England anyway, have you seen him anywhere..."

"GODDAMMIT, YOU POTATO BASTARD!"

Groans rose as the nations ready to head back to bed were interrupted by a very loud, and very angry Romano. Charging down the hall, Germany was caught slightly off guard as the Italian jabbed an angry finger at his chest, cursing in his native language.

"You—! I TOLD you, I hate it when you seduce my brother! I _don't want _him sleeping in your smelly bed!_ Where the hell is Veneciano?_" he roared, face flushed a dark red and waiting for an answer he thought would come.

Germany only stood there awkwardly with America hanging from his hand, staring at Romano as if he'd grown a second head.

"...What?"

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I WAS KICKED IN THE BACKSIDE BY A REVIEWER! ;_; I know I haven't updated for a bit, but one day a review arrived chastising me for leaving all of you waiting! So I checked the last time I updated and it was a while ago...

So thank you, anonymous reviewer, for prompting me to finish this chapter! (and I still updated late, for that matter...)

As an aside, I just want to reassure everyone that every story I start on FF net, I will finish. No excuse for procrastination, though...

I'll try to update more quickly and not in six months, but no promises ;_;


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